description of the inside, and of the furniture, of an english house.
one of the peculiarities in this country is, that every body lives upon the ground floor, except the shopkeepers. the stable and coach-house either adjoin the house, or more frequently are detached from it, and the kitchen is either at the back of the house on the ground floor, or underground, which is usually the case in large towns, but never, as with us, above stairs. they wonder at our custom of living on the higher floors, and call it troublesome: i, on my part, cannot be reconciled to the inconvenience of living on a level with the street: the din is at your very ear, the window cannot be thrown open for the 150dust which showers in, and it is half darkened by blinds that the by-passers may not look in upon your privacy.
one room on the first floor is reserved for company, the rest are bed-rooms, for the beds, instead of standing in recesses, are placed in rooms as large as those in which we dwell. this occasions a great waste of space, the more remarkable, as ground is exceedingly valuable in the towns, and is rented by the square foot of front at a prodigious price. nothing surprised me more at first, than the excellent workmanship of the doors and windows; no jarring with the wind, no currents of air, and the windows, which are all suspended by pulleys, rise with a touch. this is not entirely and exclusively owing to the skill of the english workmen, but in great measure also to the climate. when the wood has once been seasoned, neither the heat nor humidity of the atmosphere is ever sufficient to affect it materially. in good houses the doors have a 151strip of open brass work above the handle, that the servants may not soil them with their fingers.
an englishman delights to show his wealth; every thing in his house, therefore, is expensive: a whole dwelling in our country is furnished at less cost than is bestowed here upon a single apartment. the description of our common sitting-room may be considered as a fair specimen. the whole floor is fitted with carpeting, not of the costliest kind, but both in texture and design far superior to what is usually seen in spain. this remains down summer and winter, though in summer our matting would be far more suitable, if the fashion were once introduced. before the fire is a small carpet of different fabric, and fleecy appearance, about two varas long, and not quite half as broad; a fashion of late years, which has become universal, because it is at once ornamental, comfortable, and useful, preserving the larger one, which would else 152soon be worn out in that particular part. of the fire-places i have already spoken; here the frontal is marble, and above is a looking-glass the whole length of the mantle-piece, divided into three compartments by gilt pillars, which support a gilt architrave. on each side hang bell-ropes of coloured worsted, about the thickness of a man’s wrist, the work of mrs j— and her sister, which suspend knobs of polished spar. the fender is remarkable; it consists of a crescent basket work of wire painted green, about a foot in height, topt with brass, and supporting seven brazen pillars of nearly the same height, which also are surmounted by a band of brass. this also is a late fashion, introduced in consequence of the numberless accidents occasioned by fire. almost every newspaper contains an account that some woman has been burnt to death, and they are at last beginning to take some means of precaution.
the chairs and tables are of a wood 153brought from honduras, which is in great request here, of a fine close grain, and a reddish brown colour, which becomes more beautiful as it grows darker with age. the history of this wood, of which all the finer articles of furniture exclusively are made, is rather singular. a west indian captain, about a century ago, brought over some planks as ballast, and gave them to his brother, dr gibbons, a physician of great eminence, who was then building a house. the workmen, however, found the wood too hard for their tools, and it was thrown aside. some time afterwards his wife wanted a box to hold candles, the doctor thought of the west indian wood, and, in spite of the difficulty which was still found in working it, had the box made. he admired its colour and polish so much, that he had a bureau made of it also; and this was thought so beautiful, that it was shown to all his friends. among others, the duchess of buckingham came to see it, and begged enough of 154the wood to make her a bureau also. from that moment the demand was so great, that it became a regular article of trade, and as long as the woods of honduras last it is likely to continue so. there is reason to believe that the tree would grow in england, as there are some flourishing plants in the neighbourhood of london which have been raised from seed. formerly the tables were made of the solid plank; but english ingenuity has now contrived to give the same appearance at a far less cost of materials, by facing common deal with a layer of the fine wood not half a barley-corn in thickness. to give you an idea of the curiosity with which all these things are executed, is impossible; nothing can be more perfect.
our breakfast table is oval, large enough for eight or nine persons, yet supported upon one claw in the centre. this is the newest fashion, and fashions change so often in these things, as well as in every thing else, that it is easy to know how 155long it is since a house has been fitted up, by the shape of the furniture. an upholder just now advertises commodes, console-tables, ottomans, chaiselongès, and chiffoniers;—what are all these? you ask. i asked the same question, and could find no person in the house who could answer me; but they are all articles of the newest fashion, and no doubt all will soon be thought indispensably necessary in every well-furnished house. here is also a nest of tables for the ladies, consisting of four, one less than another, and each fitting into the one above it; you would take them for play-things, from their slenderness and size, if you did not see how useful they find them for their work. a harpsichord takes up the middle of one side of the room, and in the corners are screens to protect the face from the fire, of mahogany, with fans of green silk, which spread like a flower, and may be raised or lowered at pleasure. a book-case, standing on a chest of drawers, completes the heavy 156furniture; it has glazed doors, and curtains of green silk within.
but i should give you a very inadequate idea of an english room were i to stop here. each window has blinds to prevent the by-passers from looking in; the plan is taken from the venetian blinds, but made more expensive, as the bars are fitted into a frame and move in grooves. the shutters fit back by day, and are rendered ornamental by the gilt ring by which they are drawn open: at night you perceive that you are in a land of housebreakers by the contrivances for barring them, and the bells which are fixed on to alarm the family, in case the house should be attacked. on one side of the window the curtains hang in festoons, they are of rich printed cotton, lined with a plain colour and fringed, the quantity they contain is very great. add to this a sconce of the most graceful form, with six prints in gilt frames, and you have the whole scene before you. two of these are noel’s views of cadiz 157and lisbon; the others are from english history, and represent the battles of the boyne and of la hogue, the death of general wolfe at quebec, and william penn treating with the indians for his province of pennsylvania.
let us proceed to the dining-room.—here the table is circular, but divides in half to receive a middle part which lengthens it, and this is so contrived that it may be made to suit any number of persons from six to twenty. the side-board is a massier piece of furniture; formerly a single slab of marble was used for this purpose, but now this is become one of the handsomest and most expensive articles. the glasses are arranged on it ready for dinner, and the knives and forks in two little chests or cabinets, the spoons are be tween them in a sort of urn; every thing being made costly and ornamental.
the drawing-room differs chiefly from the breakfast parlour in having every thing more expensive, a carpet of richer fabric, 158sconces and mirrors more highly ornamented, and curtains of damask like the sofas and chairs. two chandeliers with glass drops stand on the mantle-piece; but in these we excel the english; they have not the brilliancy of those from the royal fabric at st ildefonso. in this room are the portraits of j— and his wife, by one of the best living artists, so admirably executed as to make me blush for the present state of the arts in spain.
having proceeded thus far, i will go through the house. j— took me into his kitchen one day to show me what is called the kitchen-range, which has been constructed upon the philosophical principles of count rumford, a german[11] philosopher, the first person who has applied scientific discoveries to the ordinary purposes of life. the top of the fire is covered with an iron plate, so that the flame and 159smoke, instead of ascending, pass through bars on the one side, and there heat an iron front, against the which food may be roasted as well as by the fire itself; it passes on, heating stoves and boilers as it goes, and the smoke is not suffered to pass up the chimney till it can no longer be of any use. on the other side is an oven heated by the same fire, and vessels for boiling may be placed on the plate over the fire. the smoke finally sets a kind of wheel in motion in the chimney, which turns the spit. i could not but admire the comfort and cleanliness of every thing about the kitchen; a dresser as white as when the wood was new, the copper and tin vessels bright and burnished, the chain in which the spit plays, bright; the plates and dishes ranged in order along the shelves, and i could not but wish our dirty domingo were here to take a lesson of english cleanliness. there is a back-kitchen in which all the dirty work is done, into which water is conveyed by pipes. 160the order and cleanliness of every thing made even this room cheerful, though under-ground, where the light enters only from an area, and the face of the sky is never seen.
11. this is a mistake of the author’s. count rumford is an american.—tr.
and now for my own apartment, where i am now writing. it is on the second floor, the more, therefore, to my liking, as it is less noisy, and i breathe in a freer atmosphere. my bed, though neither covered with silk nor satin, has as much ornament as is suitable; silk or satin would not give that clean appearance which the english always require, and which i have already learnt to delight in. hence, the damask curtains which were used in the last generation have given place to linens. these are full enough to hang in folds; by day they are gathered round the bed-posts, which are light pillars of mahogany supporting a frame-work, covered with the same furniture as the curtains; and valances are fastened round this frame, both withinside the curtains and without, and 161again round the sides of the bedstead. the blankets are of the natural colour of the wool, quite plain; the sheets plain also. i have never seen them flounced nor laced, nor ever seen a striped or coloured blanket. the counterpane is of all english manufactures the least tasteful; it is of white cotton, ornamented with cotton knots, in shapes as graceless as the cut box in a garden. my window-curtains are of the same pattern as the bed; a mahogany press holds my clothes, an oval looking-glass swung lengthways stands on the dressing-table. a compact kind of chest holds the bason, the soap, the toothbrush, and water-glass, each in a separate compartment; and a looking-glass, for the purpose of shaving at (for englishmen usually shave themselves,) slips up and down behind, the water-jug and water-bottle stand below, and the whole shuts down a-top, and closes in front, like a cabinet. the room is carpeted; here i have my fire, my table, and my cassette; here i study, 162and here minute down every thing which i see or learn—how industriously you will perceive, and how faithfully, you who best know me, will best know.
my honoured father will say to all this, how many things are there here which i do not want?—but you, my dear mother,—i think i see you looking round the room while you say, how will manuel like to leave these luxuries and return to spain? how anxiously i wish to leave them, you will not easily conceive, as you have never felt that longing love for your own country, which absence from it renders a passion, and almost a disease. fortunate as i am in having such rare advantages of society and friendship, and happy as i am in the satisfaction wherewith i reflect every night that no opportunity of enquiry or observation has been lost during the day, still my greatest pleasure is to think how fast the days and weeks are passing on, and that every day i am one day nearer the time of my return. i never longed half so earnestly 163to return from alcalá, as i now do to enter my native place, to see the shield over the door-way, to hear the sound of our own water-wheel, of the bells of st claras, of domingo’s viola at evening, to fondle my own dogs, to hear my own language, to kneel at mass in the church where i was baptized, and to see once more around me the faces of all whom i have known from infancy, and of all whom i love best.
?ay[12] dios de mi alma!
?saqueisme de aquí!
?ay! que inglaterra
ya no es para mí.
12. ah god of my soul, take me from hence! alas! england is not a country for me.—tr.
